


The Hawk's Eye: A Tribute

by onnari



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon - Manga, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onnari/pseuds/onnari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She trusts that she’ll see the shot through to the best of her ability. She promises she will for every shot she ever takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hawk's Eye: A Tribute

The first day Riza picks up a gun in the academy is the day that she thinks she’s starting to finally put her life together and building a life that is truly her own. The gun is heavier than she expects, so sleek and compact and small. But she likes its weight because she doesn’t want to forget that it’s in her hands. She doesn’t want the significance of the moment to be lost whenever she pulls the trigger. It has to mean something. She wants it to weigh in her hands like the decision to join the military weighs on her mind. They both require discipline and resolve. Both are full of expectation. She wants to fulfill them both, and she knows she can.

So she puts in the effort to master the firearm they give her even when it takes some getting used to and a certain amount of time of just letting it rest bare and quiet on her palm. Slowly her fingers become accustomed to the width of its grip. She learns to clean it, to care for it, to know all its subtle contours as if she’s becoming acquainted with the tangible and realized form of her future in her hands.

Riza thinks she almost worships the gun, still just an empty shell of expectant promise, by the time they allow her to practice loading and reloading filled magazines. It should be tiresome, but she finds it methodical and reassuring. She relishes neatly aligning the cartridges within the magazine, the precise, steady, capable work of her hands.

And when she cocks the hammer, the gun becomes all brimming intensity and power, and she must remind herself to keep her arms very still against the surge of energy that rushes through them. She responds to the firearm, grasping it tightly with her both her hands until they begin to hurt. But her hands stay steady, and she loves it. She loves herself for being capable of it.

Aiming and firing are the last steps, and she soon realizes they are her favorite. That’s when it all comes together, pure kinetic power, and in that moment she knows she’s truly in control. A gun means nothing if you can’t make it hit the mark. At some point it will all come down to her having to protect someone and that will mean hitting her mark every time.

When she pulls the trigger for the first time, she doesn’t hesitate. She trusts that she’ll see the shot through to the best of her ability. She promises she will for every shot she ever takes.

Her body handles the recoil too tensely at first, her muscles uncomfortably taut after the exhilaration of the release of the gun. But she becomes accustomed to it with more time, swearing all the time that the release shocks her very soul awake.

When she discovers she’s damn good at hitting her mark, that moment validates everything. When she first manages to hit the bull’s eye in target practice, she can barely resist the urge to go for another magazine immediately and do it all over again. Another time and then another, a million times over. Just so she can see that undeniable proof of her success until it’s forever engrained in her mind with no chance that she’ll ever forget it.  


But instead she takes that exhilarating moment of victory to quietly welcome the gun to her side, treating it for the first time as an old friend and a new extension of herself.

And then she reloads.


End file.
